


(You Look) So Good In Blue

by trespresh



Series: I'm Half-Doomed, You're Semi-Sweet [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (kind of), Barry blushes a lot, Barry wears the parka, M/M, Role Reversal, Secret Relationship, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trespresh/pseuds/trespresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len suspects that Lisa likes to make Barry blush even more than Len does and, well. He can’t exactly be mad at her for that, because the rosy color that blossoms over Barry’s cheeks is so annoyingly endearing that Len can only watch in what Lisa had once called <i>fondness</i>.</p>
<p>(In which Lisa teases, Barry blushes, and Len receives a gift with an unexpected outcome.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	(You Look) So Good In Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Eeeep sorry it's been a few weeks; it was my birthday and then Thanksgiving, yaaaay! I hope all of you who celebrated had a lovely Thanksgiving. I also hope you all have as much of a thing for Barry in the parka, as I do.
> 
> Characters belong to the DC Universe, I'm just borrowing them. Title belongs to Fall Out Boy.

Ever since Mick walked in on Len and Barry, he’s been exceptionally careful. He knocks heavily on Len’s door and waits patiently (which always makes Barry laugh before climbing off Len and pulling his shirt on at superspeed) and really, Len’s grateful, and the whole situation would make him laugh too if it weren’t so goddamn _frustrating_ to lose Barry’s weight on top of him.

Mick had agreed easily enough to help Len make his statement at the Central City Science Museum a few weeks ago (and hadn’t _that_ been a painful conversation, asking Mick to help him win back the Flash’s favor, for God’s sake), and Mick hadn’t asked questions; he’d merely petted the Heat Gun lovingly and nodded.

At the museum, Mick had fired the Flash’s bolt into the wall, goggles glowing with the reflection of flames, and through the transfixed grin had muttered, “You’re so whipped, man,” and, well. There’s now a frostbite scar on his shoulder to complement the burns on his skin.

So things are simple with them now. Len pretends not to notice the good-naturedly yet smug look in Mick’s eyes, and Mick pretends not to be good-naturedly smug.

If only Lisa were that easy.

Len suspects that Lisa likes to make Barry blush even more than Len does and, well. He can’t exactly be mad at her for that, because the rosy color that blossoms over Barry’s cheeks is so annoyingly endearing that Len can only watch in what Lisa had once called _fondness_.

She says absurd things like, “Could you two _be_ cuter?” and, “I’m actually jealous, Lenny, you always did have good taste,” and other infuriating things that make Len half-want to punch her, and half-want to drag Barry to his bedroom and see just how far down his body that blush extends.

While Mick has taken up knocking before entering a room, Lisa has done the exact opposite. She _barges_. She shows up unannounced with a fling of Len’s apartment door, and always with that awful, self-satisfied smirk painted across her face. She watches Barry scramble up off of Len, his cheeks already tinting that (not adorable) pretty pink, like nothing pleases her more than to watch Barry’s stutter an explanation and maybe trip over his own feet once or twice.

Something weird and protective always stirs in Len’s chest because yes, Barry is fumbling and ridiculous and too awkward for his own good, but that blush, that embarrassed little sigh of frustration Barry huffs out—those belong to Len, not Lisa.

And Len almost, _almost_ , gets the impression that she does these things to get to Len as much as to Barry; she’ll take her eyes off Barry’s exasperated blush for the moment it takes to flick over to Len and catch him watching Barry distractedly before he meets her intolerably smug gaze, eyes narrowed and brow quirked like she knows exactly how dazed he is by the idiotic city hero bumbling next to him. And then her eyes flit back over to Barry like nothing happened.

Little sisters are the _worst_.

+

“Lenny, I brought you beer! I figured you might need to stock up and—oh.”

Len smiles at the note of disappointment in Lisa’s voice; he doesn’t look up from the papers in front of him—blueprints, pictures of high quality jewels, notations of time allotments—as she shuts the apartment door behind herself.

“You didn’t have to barge in, sis. Barry’s not here,” he says calmly. He looks up at her sulking frame in the doorway. “And that isn’t beer.” He gestures at the gift bag in her hand.

She saunters over to the couch on which he sits, dropping the gift bag—red with yellow tissue paper, _honestly_ —onto the blueprints in front of him.

“I saw something I thought you might like, and I needed a reasonable excuse to come in,” she says by way of explanation, sitting next to him.

Len narrows his eyes at her. “Right, because you never walk in uninvited.” He snarks, “You could’ve at least actually _brought_ beer.”

“This is better.” She pats the gift bag but the smirk on her face—like she’s barely holding back laughter—tells him otherwise. He glares half-heatedly and she sobers, her smirk melting into a softer, genuine smile. “I know I’ve maybe been a tiny bit annoying—oh, don’t look at me like that. Fine, _very_ annoying. But you do seem happy, Lenny.”

Len’s eyes narrow further, waiting for her smirk to return or maybe a taunt or something, but she just looks back at him through her eyelashes, eyes soft and tooth-achingly sweet in that way only she can be. He sighs.

“Yeah. Things have been… good.”

She stares at him, lips spreading into a slow smile until he gives in and smiles, too.

“You big softie,” she teases, knocking her shoulder against his. If she were anyone else, Len would freeze her to the floor for calling him soft. “And for Central’s own resident hero, who would’ve thought?” She sighs softly. “Boy sure can blush. Are you absolutely sure he’s over eighteen?”

Len side-eyes her in annoyance. “You and Mick, both. Do you really think I didn’t do a background check on the kid the moment I learned who he was?”

Her smirk is back. “Find out anything good?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. He’d done the background check. He’d read the headlines and police reports, knew about Barry’s mom and about his dad in prison for all those years—objectively. But a week or so ago, nestled safe in Len’s bed late one night, Barry had told him the story in a low voice, quiet and careful like he didn’t like to talk about _that night_ if he didn’t have to. Len, for his part, had kept his mouth shut and listened, a hand clasped tight around Barry’s shoulder. And then Barry had curled against him when Len pressed his lips to Barry’s temple, a comfortably vulnerable silence settling around them like a heavy blanket before Barry twisted himself up and kissed Len slow and deep, muttering a sincere “ _thank you_ ” between kisses. Len had held him tighter and kissed back, something warm bubbling in his chest because Barry trusts him—

“Len.”

He’s jolted back into the present, sheepishly meeting Lisa’s amused eyes.

“He had a… troubled childhood,” he says carefully, eyes narrowed at Lisa, daring her to challenge his vague answer. She simply smiles softly and pats his knee.

“No wonder you two get along. What is it about Flash and his little team, hm?” She says dreamily, staring off to the side for a moment before kissing his cheek and getting to her feet. “Happy for you, big brother.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches as she makes her way to the front door. She turns back to him, her hand on the knob. “Let me and Mick know when you’re done planning whatever that is,” she calls, waving toward the blueprints and photos of diamonds in front of him. “And open your gift!”

The way she practically runs out the door after that last comment really should have tipped him off.

He glares at the offending bag on the table like it might sprout teeth and lunge at him. He’s not sure what to expect, but when he pulls it toward himself and rips out the yellow tissue paper in annoyance, he just stares at the fabric in the bag.

He pulls out the shirt, alarmingly red and with the Flash insignia stamped across the chest, and isn’t sure whether to laugh or burn it to ashes with Mick’s gun. Flash merchandise, Christ.

He settles for a chuckle, low and mildly amused because Lisa must think she’s so funny, giving this to him. He considers throwing it away for a moment before deciding against it. Why not have a little fun with the shirt?

He does love to make Barry blush, after all.

+

To his surprise, Barry’s cheeks don’t redden when he trips to a stop in Len’s living room a few hours later. He’s in full-Flash uniform, cowl up and mouth open like he’s about to start talking about something, but then he gets a good look at Len.

Len, sitting on the couch, beer in hand and casual as can be. Len, wearing a Flash shirt.

Len says nothing, just smirks lightly and sips his beer, watching the way Barry struggles between confusion, amusement, wonder, and—there’s definitely something like hunger amongst the lightning in his eyes.

“Nice shirt,” he says around a chuckle, and Len’s smirk grows.

“Lisa gave it to me,” he responds, still watching Barry’s reaction closely. “You like it?”

Len’s never seen anything quite like Barry’s smirk; it’s crooked and uncharacteristic but somehow fits his face unfairly well. Barry blurs for a moment, flitting into the coat closet in the entryway, and then he’s standing in front of Len with a small gust of wind, and it’s Len’s turn to stare.

His first thought is that Barry looks good in blue.

His second thought is that Barry looks really, really good in Len’s clothes.

“Since you’re wearing Flash clothes,” Barry says, looking at Len like he knows just how breathless Len is right now, eyes a little wide but smirk still in place, _the little shit_ , “I think it’s fair that I wear Cold’s.”

Barry’s hair is windswept and his cheeks are just barely tinged red with the exhilaration of wearing Len’s parka. It comes down to the middle of his thighs, and his legs are bare. He’s got the parka zipped up halfway up so his bare chest is visible, the collar falling open wide to expose his neck, the tease of his collarbones.

The blood in Len’s brain immediately rushes south, so he can’t think much further than—

Barry is naked. In Len’s parka. Barry is _naked in Len’s parka_.

—and he yanks Barry down by the collar to kiss him hard, loving the way Barry laughs into his mouth.

He’ll have to give Lisa something shiny to thank her for the shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> I only have a few more oneshot ideas for this series before I know how I'm going to end it. That said, anyone have any ideas they want to see written? (I can't guarantee that I'll write them, but I'm always open to new prompts!)


End file.
